


It's Worse

by yuutsuhime



Category: VA-11 Hall-A (Video Game)
Genre: Antagonism, Belligerent Sexual Tension, Bratting, Breaking the Fourth Wall, Degradation, Explicit Consent, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Hallucinations, Mutual Masturbation, Past Character Death, Power Struggle, Telepathy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:22:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26885821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuutsuhime/pseuds/yuutsuhime
Summary: Jill has a breakdown at work. Anna distracts her with outrageous sexual behavior and a general sense of perverse glee.
Relationships: Anna Graem/Jill Stingray
Comments: 6
Kudos: 23





	It's Worse

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of like hate sex, but without the sex. If that makes sense.
> 
> The traffic light system is used here but I don't explain it in text. It's a way to communicate consent; green means consent, yellow and red are safewords.

Jill starts thinking about unrequited love around the time that Alma leaves, and Sei shows up with Stella.

That's how her job works, right? Small talk. Mix the drinks. Pretend not to be paying attention to what every little expression implies. Remember what it feels like to be wanted. Remember what it feels like to have crushes on people who were emotionally available, had the right sexual orientation, and probably wouldn't abandon Jill before she abandoned them—

Why is Jill thinking about Lenore when she could be thinking about people who are still alive, like how Stella and Sei are almost certainly in love with each other—oh god, Jill already third-wheeled one of their dates and Jill is six years older than both of them—when they kiss Jill remembers that she's already taken a smoke break but her boss would probably understand if Jill went to go cry in the bathroom—not about Jill having a crush on her boss, but like, her boss definitely knows about Jill's crush on Alma and how Alma is straight and how Stella and Sei are so fucking star crossed that they're both literally named after stars—

"Boo!" Anna says.

 _Oh,_ Jill thinks. _It's worse._

Anna is in the TV. She's pouting and Jill wonders what would happen if she threw a glass through the screen.

"Wow," Anna says. "You're having a _really_ bad day."

 _Yeah, and now I'm going crazy,_ Jill thinks. Wait. Psychosis. Jill has psychosis. What is Jill supposed to do when Jill is experiencing psychosis? Maybe her DBT binder would help but it's probably—

"It's in your apartment," Anna says. "See?"

Jill changes the channel. It doesn't work. There are no batteries in the remote because Jill borrowed them for her—

"You did this to yourself," Anna shrugs.

_Fuck you._

"Sure," Anna chirps. "Wait, Jo, just out of curiosity: have you ever heard of the phrase 'jilling off'—"

 _Oh my god, I'm actually going to do it,_ Jill thinks. _I'm actually going to fucking kill myself._

"Wanna be dead together that badly?"

_Get the fuck out of my head._

"I'm not in your head! I'm just reading what it says on the screen."

Grounding. Pick a physical object and mindfully observe its properties. Jill washes all of the cups and then wipes the counter down. Sei and Stella are talking to each other in Jill's peripheral vision and Gillian needs help with some fringe weavers, so Jill mixes a few. Starts thinking about optional kartometrine and really, really investigating how high her own alcohol tolerance is.

"Wow, those girls are cute," Anna says. "I've shipped them for a while, too. They come together so much that I—"

 _They do?_ Jill thinks. Her heart falls into her stomach like a heavy, fucked up fruit.

"Oh, that one was an accident!" Anna shrieks. " _Jo_. Mind in the gutter—"

Jill fruitlessly clicks the remote at the television a few more times.

"Aww, you're no fun," Anna pouts. "But look at you! You're already in a better mood. Can't be suicidal if you're this mad."

Jill actually considers that.

"Are we just going to ignore them, then? Ooh, I think they might smooch again—"

 _Oh my god,_ Jill thinks. _Oh my god, Lenore is dead. Lenore is dead, and she was dead yesterday, and she's going to be dead tomorrow—_

Anna materializes in front of the bar and sits down on a stool. "Surprise! Give me a drink."

_Absolutely not._

"Not even if I give prior consent to anything that could happen to me?"

 _Nope,_ Jill thinks. Anna can't drink. It physically does not work, and Jill usually ends up paying for it _and_ cleaning up the mess.

"Almost like full service sex work," Anna says.

Jill doesn't react. It's a choice.

"I brought your binder," Anna says. "I'm skipping right to the distress tolerance section. Hold on...you've probably been relying on 'self-soothe' a lot recently—"

 _Shut up,_ Jill thinks. More small talk. Sei briefly intersects with Anna when she orders another drink and Jill really, really can't figure out what the fuck is going on, so she gives up. Maybe if she gets Sei drunk Stella will take her home. Wait—then they'd be home together, and that makes Jill feel even more jealous—but if they're together at the bar for any longer, Jill has to witness everything that happens, and that might be worse—and wait, why is Jill even considering doing something that unethical to a friend she knows has zero alcohol tolerance—

"Distraction," Anna says. "Improving the moment. Sensory awareness. Those are our options."

Jill snatches her binder away from Anna and throws it under the counter. She's definitely interacting with a physical object she just saw Anna transport through the television set, but that's probably not important right now.

"Hey!" Anna scowls. "I'm putting in a lot of effort here! Come on. Humor me just a little? I promise this is going somewhere."

 _Oh no,_ Jill thinks. She can't name when the night crossed the line from being shitty to being genuinely bad. It was probably around the first time that Stella kissed Sei, which was a moment of joy that Jill was supposed to feel happy about and didn't. Jill keeps thinking about kissing. Like how Lenore's lips were always chapped because she refused to buy chapstick but sometimes she'd steal Jill's with a kiss—

"Jo, remember when you admitted that I'm hot?"

_I didn't admit that._

"You did. You said if you saw me on the street you'd check me out."

_Only if you weren't wearing a seifuku—and only because it's really, really cursed to wear jeans under a skirt._

"Suppose both of those problems were fixed."

Jill stops in the middle of mixing a drink. Starts supposing a number of things. It feels kind of like losing. Anna gets this stupid, transparent smirk on her face and that makes Jill suppose a few more things—

"Hey, Jo. Truth or truth. Suppose there's a traffic light. Really, really imagine it in your mind's eye, and think about everything it could mean. What color is it?"

 _Green,_ Jill thinks.

Anna takes her shirt off. It just kind of happens.

 _Okay,_ Jill thinks. _Okay, this is happening. This is a figment of my imagination, but—_

"Am I what you imagined, then?" Anna says.

Jill looks at Anna's chest. Anna is wearing this lacy black bralette that's probably loose enough to fit a hand inside—probably also transparent in the right lighting—

"You _did_ imagine me, didn't you?" Anna says. She's being smug about it. The worst part is that she has every right to.

_That—that's not fair._

"Cry about it," Anna says. She undoes her skirt. "There. No seifuku. Only jeans. Gonna check me out, now?"

 _Shit,_ Jill thinks. _Shit. Why does she actually have to be hot—_

"Ha! You admitted it! Sucker!" Anna crows. She throws the skirt into Jill's face, where it clips through her body out of existence. "Say it again."

_Fuck you._

"Bratty," Anna says. "I can deal with that."

_Then deal with it._

Anna climbs up onto the counter. It's no trouble for her to simply appear there, but there's something about the very specific detail of it. It's probably the freckles. Anna has tiny little freckles over her shoulders and back and it's kind of cute in the same way that Lenore was cute, except Lenore had more freckles, and also had that thing on her chest that wasn't quite a birthmark—is it weird to jack off to your dead ex? Maybe Jill just shouldn't think about it.

"Hey," Anna says. Leans over. Jill is mixing Stella's third drink, and Anna kind of glitches out whenever something intersects her. It's funny in a fucked up computer sort of way. Maybe it's penance that Anna is so horny and yet can't touch or be touched— _Oh god,_ Jill thinks, _Is this a metaphor? Within the Jungian decomposition of my personality, is Anna the metaphorical representation of my stupid fucking sexual frustration—_

"You're overthinking it," Anna says. "If you want me to fuck you, just ask."

_Heh. Getting fucked by my own mental illness. Fitting._

"Still overthinking it."

_Hallucination._

"Girl," Anna shrugs.

Jill starts thinking about sex. It just happens. She's probably masturbated in the staff bathroom way more than Gillian has—and why is it even taboo? People shit and piss and vomit in bathrooms so there's no reason she shouldn't be able to go cum there.

"Go on, then," Anna says.

_Shut up._

"Honestly, I didn't expect that showing you my tits would cause an ontological crisis," Anna says. "Want to find out what happens when I take off my bra?"

The biker guy from earlier comes into the bar with another man. They sit down at the table and hold hands for a bit longer. Is it homophobic to experience physical pain when you see a happy gay couple? Is Jill just a fucking downer?

 _You know what,_ Jill thinks. _Sure. Do it. See what I care._

Anna takes it off.

Jill looks. Remembers how those nipple clamps that didn't quite stay on Lenore would definitely—

"Keep going," Anna says.

_Fuck you for reading my mind._

"Aww, do you hate me for it? Good. I want you to hate me."

_If you weren't fucking dead I'd throw you out of this bar—_

"And what, throw me into the alley, push me up against a wall and have your way—"

Jill thinks about it. Vividly imagines what it would feel like—the brick rough and cold against her arms, her knees scraping into asphalt, Anna grinding into—wait, fuck, the mind-reading. Jill can't think about this. If she does, she'll lose, and she'll have to deal with Anna's stupid, smug, slappable face—

"Hey Jo. If I was wearing panties, what color do you think they'd be?"

_Green. What the fuck is going on with your wardrobe? Are you really—_

"You'll never know," Anna says. She undoes the button on her jeans and slides her hand—

 _Okay,_ Jill thinks. _Okay. I can't remember what drink Mario wants, and I feel like it doesn't exist anyway, and now I'm hallucinating a fucking ghost jacking off in front of my terminal—_

"Jilling—"

Jill wants to scream. Makes a conscious decision not to, and then makes the drink. Passes it over the counter, intersecting most of Anna's thigh, and Anna moans.

_Liar._

Anna shrugs. "I just thought you should know what I sound like."

Jill closes her eyes. Hopes nobody at the bar can see her blush. If Dorothy were here she'd know something was up, although she'd probably just guess Jill was using a remote vibrator, instead of... whatever _this_ was. Fuck. Jill has never really been this wet at work before—

"Good," Anna says. Her voice is also glitching around the edges. "Good. I did that to you."

Jill can't think of a response. She's so turned on that if she sat down the seam of her pants would probably be enough to put her right on the edge. It's not fair. It's not fair that Anna can do this, and it's even less fair that Jill secretly really, really likes it.

"Truth or truth," Anna says.

 _Truth,_ Jill thinks.

"You really, really like this."

_Fuck you. Fuck you so much._

"Say it."

Mario's date yells, "Hey, bartender? What's the best drink around here?"

Jill gestures to a random drink on the menu. "I really, really like this."

Anna smiles so wide she bares her teeth. Jill kind of won that one, right? Now she's thinking about Anna's teeth and how it feels for someone to bite down the side of her neck, so maybe she's losing again. Maybe that doesn't really matter at this point.

 _Truth,_ Jill thinks. _Are you faking?_

Anna shows Jill her hand. "Could you fake this?"

Jill is probably losing her mind. As in, having some sort of mental collapse. As in, she wants to lick it off Anna's fingers. She'd take it slow. Make eye contact for so long that she'd memorize Anna's stupidly cute eyelashes and how her pupils would darken as she—

"I—" Anna pants. "I've also never faked an orgasm in my life."

_That's meaningless. You're literally dead._

"Just a little," Anna moans. "I'm close—I'm really close—"

Mario orders a second drink. Jill can't remember what it is. She doesn't really care. He's a sweet, tipsy boy and Jill is so stupidly turned on that she adds a few extra shots of kartometrine just to make sure he won't be able to see her trembling with arousal.

"Keep thinking," Anna says. "Please—"

_Please? Are you going to beg?_

"Truth. Tell me what you'd do to me."

_I'd make you beg._

"So I'm begging. You throw me into the alley. What do you do?"

_I'd beat the shit out of you until you can't even think of another fucking smartass remark—_

"As if you could stop me—"

_Then I'll fucking choke you out. A thirsty whore like you would probably just enjoy it._

"You're holding back. Don't hold back—"

_I want you in my mouth. I want to taste you, and when we kiss I want you to taste yourself, like the fucking filthy wreck you are—_

Anna clenches around herself. "That's it—"

_I want to see how many times you can come. You won't get a break. I want you wet through every layer of clothing, and I'll fuck you through every orgasm until you can't even scream—_

"Jill—"

_That's it. Say my name. Say it—_

"Julianne—" Anna cries, and she comes so hard her legs shake. Jill sees red. She walked right into it. It's her own fucking fault, and it's up there with the hardest she's ever seen anyone come, and probably just because the name thing really did it—that makes her even more outraged.

"Gil, tend the bar," Jill says. Her voice is raw; far too husky. "I'm about to fucking shit myself."

Jill goes into the bathroom without waiting for a response. Anna is already there, still basking in victory, still a bit off balance—

"Isn't that equally embarrassing?" Anna says. "You could have just said you're about to come."

"Fuck you," Jill spits, out loud. "Fuck you. Fuck. You."

Anna rolls her eyes. "So, you've got me alone. Gonna throw me up against the sink? Make me watch in the mirror?"

_I'm going to fucking kill you._

"So kill me."

Jill wants to break every single glass in the bar. Just smash them on the ground one by one. It'd be like when she left Lenore, only—

"You and I both know why you decided to come back here," Anna says.

_I hate you._

Anna shrugs. "Do it. Finish yourself off."

 _If I could fucking touch you—_ Jill seethes. She sits on the toilet and plunges her hand under her skirt. She's really, really far gone already; she can already take two of her fingers all the way—

"What would you do? Leave a few bruises? Gonna make me cry?"

_Fuck you. I'll do so much fucking more than that—_

"Then do it. Draw blood. You want to break a rib—then break a _fucking_ rib."

Jill spits in Anna's face. It passes through.

"Don't doubt for one second that I can't make you lick that off the floor—"

Jill moans. She's losing. Puts her sleeve in her mouth to bite back what she can.

"Oh, you loved that. You're so feisty but all you really want is conquest—god, you want me so bad. Look at you tearing up in frustration—"

Jill bites her lip. Tastes blood. She's right there—right on the edge, and it's all because of this _stupid_ fucking girl—Anna smirks knowingly, full of herself, and Jill is going to come—

"Then come," Anna sneers. "Get it over with. I don't fucking care, I'll make you come again—"

Jill breaks. Crumples into herself. She can't tell when the first one ends and the second one begins, or if it just lasts that long. It ends with Jill panting, flushed, still kind of angry, and kind of beginning to reflect on what's just happened, and with who—

"Glad to know you appreciate me," Anna says.

Jill shoots a piercing glare and washes her hands. _Whatever._

Anna grins back. "So is this the part where we gently kiss, and I swaddle you in a blanket and remind you to drink water?"

 _As if I'd accept aftercare from you,_ Jill scowls. _Are you dom dropping?_

"Nah, that was nothing. The scene is over, though. You can stop bratting now."

Jill fills her hands with tap water and drinks. Splashes the rest over her face. _I have to work._

"Are you gonna be okay?"

Jill stops. Thinks about the Lenore thing, and how she begrudgingly has to accept that Anna understands her way better than anyone else probably can—it's not really gratitude, is it? Is it even acceptance? Whatever it is, it makes Jill feel really, really annoyed, and maybe a little bit better.

"Yeah," Jill says. "Thanks."


End file.
